Modicums of Control
by Shini-Kender
Summary: Grimmjow finds Ulquiorra after training to have a little discussion about control. Heavy GrimmUlqui with minor spoilers for the arrancar arc.


Yammy was a force to be reckoned with, bearing the hulking form of a juggernaut. The sound of his breath exhaling from his lungs was like a gust that filled the room as it shook under the pressure of each footfall. He lifted a giant fist in an arc that would assure almost anything beneath it would be a smear on the floor, if not from the force of the blow, than from the reiatsu that flickered and crackled with potent energy around it.

However, Ulquiorra was not exactly the sort of opponent that could be beaten by such measures. He sidestepped the fist as it crashed against the floor. Yammy knew better than to go easily on the smaller Espada. Ulquiorra expected respect from the other, but he wouldn't stand for anything less than the thug's best.

Little change affected his pale face as he moved easily into action. His sonido was swift, as could be expected of one of Aizen's most elite in number. His movements were short and sharp, always following the shortest point from a-to-b and, often, if required, all the way down to z. He wasted little effort in showing off. The results of his almost economical movements were proof enough of his sheer ability.

Yammy was a force to be reckoned with, but, against Ulquiorra, it was often just a simple countdown for how long it took him to collapse on the training room's stone floor. He let out a choked grunt as he hit the ground, rolling over to look at the other as Ulquiorra rose, brushing himself off. His proud white uniform was unaffected just as his face was.

"That will be all for today, Yammy," he finished, softly.

Yammy managed a grunt in response, slowly jerking himself free of the floor, limbs finding the feeling in them to lift his giant form. Ulquiorra only turned to walk away. He was finished and judging by the groan from the other, Yammy needed time to nurse his wounds without him around.

The Espada's leader hadn't gotten far from the room before he felt the eyes on him again. They'd been watching him since the training session, firey blue ones that he knew so well from being straight across from him at every gathering of the Espada since their formation under their new mutual masters.

"Grimmjow," he greeted, voice solemn and unsurprised, "You had no need for training yourself?"

The sixth Espada stepped out from the shadows of the hallway as nonchalant as ever, hands shoved into the sides of his hakama like some common human street punk as he skulked along the white corridor towards the higher ranked arrancar.

"S'not really training if you don't put out any effort," Grimmjow scoffed, glancing over his shoulder as he approached, "You could beat Yammy all you want and you'd never get any better."

"You have someone better in mind?" Ulquiorra pressed. He didn't step back. Grimmjow was no threat no matter how much he postured at it. He closed his eyes as Grimmjow slid a hand up his chest, the calloused palm warm against Ulquiorra's neatly pressed uniform.

"You like it don't you? Fighting him gets your blood pumping, makes you live a little, but he's no challenge," Grimmjow leaned closer, his openly bared chest was hot, even through the cloth that kept it from truly pressing against Ulquiorra's pale white skin. "But you know you'll win. Every single fuckin' time you fight, you know it's him that'll end up on the floor. You like the control of knowing that. You don't like seeing your limits."

Ulquiorra pressed uncomfortably against the wall, his white mask scraping against it and pressing harshly into his dark hair. Grimmjow's hand traced lower, moving away from Ulquiorra's heart and down. He jerked his knee between the other's legs, "You're scared of losin' that control, aren't you? Scared of what might happen if you didn't hold back."

Grimmjow lowered his head, lips roughly brushing against Ulquiorra's. His hand had sunk lower, gently kneading at the immaculate white front of Ulquiorra's hakama. There were times when he wanted to ruin it. There were times when he wanted to rip it free from the other's body and stain it with blood from either of their bodies. Sometimes, he just wanted to see it stained with blood, no matter who it came from. Right now, though, he wanted to feel the flesh beneath it harden against his palm.

Ulquiorra's breath was getting hotter against his lips as the sullen mouth parted to invite Grimmjow's tongue. Grimmjow was more than ready to invite himself in. His free hand tugged the other closer by the stiff fabric of his uniform and he took all the invitation he was offered. It was only then that Ulquiorra truly seemed to react, lifting a hand with darkly painted nails to curl through the bright blue curls of Grimmjow's hair, brushing through it and weaving against the short strands.

Grimmjow snorted thickly against the kiss, working against the lips that would narrow in displeasure the next Espada meeting they attended. For now, though, they seemed content to melt against the heat of Grimmjow's own need, relaxing in a way their master never allowed himself. He'd never fully enjoy that loss of control. He wasn't hooked on the rush that came with it like Grimmjow was.

Ulquiorra's free hand traced down Grimmjow's chest, his hips rising to meet the hand that kneaded almost tantalizingly against his hakama now. Grimmjow was rough, but he was good when he focused. That was one of the few things that made him so much more than an average hollow.

Grimmjow knew it was time when Ulquiorra's lips began to move against his, taking control of the situation. He knew that if he let this go on much longer, Ulquiorra would began to counter, taking up the lead and forcing Grimmjow to follow. He was addicted to the control as much as Grimmjow liked loosing it.

But he wouldn't let it happen this time. Grimmjow jerked away, grinning at the flash of confusion laced anger that flickered through the smaller Espada's eyes and the flush that rose against Ulquiorra's white cheeks.

"See, Ulquiorra? S'all about control," he scoffed, turning and leaving the other unsatisfied and Grimmjow strangely so. 


End file.
